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  Copyright © 2014 by Olivia Howe. All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher/ author at the e-mail address below.

  Dark Love by Olivia Howe

  E-mail: [email protected]

  Visit my web site at www.oliviahowe.webs.com

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  (1. Vampires- Fiction. 2. Healers- Fiction. 3. High school- Fiction. 4.Characters- Fiction. 5.Locations- Fiction. 6. Events- Fiction. 7. Summary- Fiction.)

  For:

  My two beautiful nieces, Melissa and Mariah.

  They have given me so much inspiration.

  My dad for always believing in me,

  no matter how crazy my dreams were.

  My sister, Amanda. For being my best friend.

  My Auntie and Uncle Scotty.

  For showing me how to pursue the right path in life.

  My mom and Steven.

  Mrs. Lamkins for being such a great

  person and taking time to edit this book.

  My beautiful angels in heaven, Mysti Mae, David, Devon, Katie.

  Last, but not least, I dedicate my book to all of the people that are struggling with

  depression and anxiety. Just remember that you're not alone in this.

  Things will get better.

  Just when you think it can't get any worse, it can.

  And just when you think it can't get better, it can.

  - NICHOLAS SPARKS

  CHAPTER 1

  Scarlett Hills

  Dear Diary,

  Each day I wake up hoping things would be easier, that the pain will just suddenly disappear, but that's not reality. Most seventeen year old girls haven't lost their father. I have. The way he died still haunts me because it could have been avoided. My father (Scott) died in a tragic car accident. He was on his way home from work one night. It was raining and the roads were polished with wet and slippery rain that was glistening off of the asphalt surface. The fog was thick and blinding. A drunk driver drove into his lane and they crashed, destroying both cars and killing my dad immediately. I hate talking about it. My little sister, Caroline, seems to always bring it up. She's fifteen years old, so I always tell her exactly how I feel and the truth about everything because I think she's old enough to hear it.

  I'm so used to forcing a fake smile on my face and making everyone believe that I'm happy. I would say that I'm pretty good at it because I'm used to doing it. My mother (Ali) has so much to worry about already. I don't want to burden her with my problems. If I did, it would just put more stress on her shoulders. She doesn't need any more mental pressure.

  Love, Nina

  * * * *

  I'm not familiar with writing all of my thoughts into a diary. My therapist thinks it would be the best way to express my emotions. In this hospital the doctors treat me like I'm crazy, even though some of the patients are, doesn't mean I am. I have the unfortunate benefit of being diagnosed with a major depressive disorder. They assume it was the death of my father that caused it, but they honestly don't understand. They don't realize the pain and suffering I feel inside. I feel trapped inside of my thoughts. I feel like I live inside of my head. My thoughts kill me inside each and every day. They get worse when I think about my family suffering and my dad being gone.

  My mom thought I needed help because she caught me slicing my leg with a sharp razor blade. I don't blame her for being concerned, but I needed something to take away from the aching pain in my heart and the only choice that seemed necessary was to cut my leg. The blood and the pain definitely distracted me from the real world that was revolving around me. After she seen what I did to my leg, and she also discovered all of the other existing scars all over my body, she sent me to this place they call Scarlett Hills Hospital.

  I've spent my whole summer vacation stuck in this place, surrounded with people searching for a way out of their pain just like I am. I can't say being here healed me completely, but it did have a big influence in my life.

  Happiness is the only thing I search for every day and every day I get disappointed because I never find it. I feel myself trying to give up, but I never have the strength to stop because happiness is the only way out of this dark world I feel myself living in. Being happy is the only way I can survive in this world any longer. Without happiness, I have nothing.

  I look around at all of the other patients here and I think it could be worse, my life could be more of a disaster. I could be in Scarlett Hills Hospital for getting diagnosed with a much terrible disorder, but it's still hard to cope with depression.

  "STOP!" A young girl yells. "The thoughts won't stop!"

  "Calm down. Everything is OK!" The sweet nurse says.

  "I can't breathe!" The young girl shouts out. "Help me! I can't breathe! I can't breathe!"

  "It's just a panic attack. Remember it can't hurt you," the blond nurse says extremely calmly. "Just take some deep breaths. Breathe in and breathe out. Tell yourself it can't hurt you."

  My eyes hit the floor. I feel this pain in my heart for this young girl. She must be at least 14 years old and suffers with generalized anxiety disorder and major depressive disorder. I wish I could help her. I wish I could take her pain away because I know how she feels. I understand the thoughts that run through her head. You're useless, you're a disgrace to your family, the world would be a much better place without you, you're ugly, fat and worthless. Those are the thoughts that run through my head. It's a never ending stream of unnecessary arrangements of mental words caused by having a depression disorder.

  I've seen worse actions displayed here from patients. I seen one patient slice her wrist and scream that she was seeing ghosts in her room. She scared me, really bad, but I felt so sorry for her. I feel bad for everyone that has emotional problems because it's extremely hard to cope with.

  "You're getting released in an hour. Your mom wants you home and we think you're ready," Dr. Fogg says to me. She's my therapist and has been there for me through this whole experience.

  "Really?" My voice is filled with excitement.

  "You start school in a few days and we want to know if you're ready to go back?" Dr. Fogg asks.

  I feel my head spin. My stomach starts to turn at the words that came out of her mouth, school. "I guess."

  "We want you to be completely ready. We aren't rushing you."

  "I think it would be good for me to get back to my normal routine. I'm feeling much better," I say. I do feel less depressed than I did when I arrived at this hospital. When I came here I thought my life was over and now I have more hope and optimism.

  "I absolutely agree, Nina."

  "I should probably get all of my things together."

  "If you ever need someone to talk to, don't hesitate on calling me. Here's my number," Dr. Fogg hands me her card. "If you need anything at all, call me."

  "Thank you," I say as I retrieve the card out of her hand.

  "It's been a pleasure meeting you and watching you recover. You are a very admirable young woman."

  I just look at her with a smile and nod my head. All I can think of is that I'll soon be home with Ali and Caroline.

  * * * *

  My heart is pounding and I can feel it in my chest. Goosebumps are starting to appear from the breeze I feel through my hospital window. I'm sitting
here with all of my things packed, waiting for a nurse to arrive and tell me that my family's waiting for me outside.

  I hear the ticking of the clock that's out in the hallway. I hear voices coming from the rooms next to mine. Then, I finally hear a knock at my door and feel myself jump off of the bed in an instant. "Are you ready, Nina?" An unfamiliar nurse asks me.

  "Yes," I say and grab my things quickly and make my way out the door.

  I feel myself trying to pace my way out to my family. I'm just so anxious to hug them and finally get to go home with them.

  "My beautiful baby," my mom shouts as she runs over to me.

  I drop my things onto the ground, "Mom!"

  "I've missed you so much, sweetie."

  "I've missed you both so much too. I was so excited to hear that I was going home today!" I say in excitement.

  "Hey! I would like to get in on this hug too!" Caroline shouts in her preppy voice.

  "Of course, sissy."

  The three of us stand here and hold onto each other for a few minutes. Happiness is filling the room and it feels nice.

  "Let's get you home!" Ali demands.

  * * * *

  Walking through the front door of our home is a feeling that's just so hard to explain. I feel this warm and chilling feeling. Butterflies are fidgety in my stomach and it's more of an exhilarating feeling than uncomfortable.

  "Welcome home," Ali and Caroline say at the same time.

  "How do you feel?" Ali asks in concern.

  "I feel much better now that I'm home," I explain honestly. "I'm going to go put my things in my room."

  "Do you need any help?" Ali asks.

  "I think I can handle it, but thank you."

  Walking into my room it feels strange. For the past three months I've been on lock down in a hospital with a bunch of people screaming all of the time.

  I sit on my bed and take in the moment. I listen through the silence and hear nothing at all. My ears start to ring because of how quiet it is. It's peaceful. I'm not used to it.

  The silence is nice, but it's annoying me. It's making the unhappy thoughts come back into my head. I need to keep my mind focused on something else. I need to run. My therapist said that running can relieve a lot of stress.

  * * * *

  Blasting the music into my headphones as I'm running is helping with the thoughts of my father and the stress I've been under. I'm playing my favorite songs by Nirvana.

  The houses and trees are passing by me somewhat quickly. I focus on what's in front of me and enjoy the run.

  My heart's beating fast and my breathing is even faster. I'm extremely exhausted, but I just can't stop running. I don't want the thoughts coming back and haunting my mind.

  I start to run faster and faster until I feel myself getting tired of running. Just a few more minutes and I'll be back at my house. I can't stop. I won't stop.

  My breathing becomes heavier and harder. I focus on my music. Nothing else matters right now. No thoughts. No memories. No images from the past. No razor blades. Nothing else matters except the open road and the million of oppourtunities.

  I come to an abrupt stop. My hands find my knees and I'm gasping for air. That was a great run, but it definitely took a toll on my body. My knees are weak and my body begins to tremble.

  I put my hands on top of my head to help myself breathe better. I begin to walk inside of my house. I find Caroline and Ali sitting in the living room watching television. I only refer to my mother as Ali in my thoughts because it's a habit I picked up as a child.

  "How was your run, sweetie?" Ali asks.

  "It was nice," I choke out through my heavy breathing. I'm still trying to catch my breath.

  "That's good."

  "You want to watch TV with us, sis?" Caroline asks.

  "I would, but running just exhausted me. I think I'm going to go upstairs and relax." I feel bad for denying her request, but I just don't have the energy to be social right now.

  "Love you," Ali says.

  "I love you too, mom."

  CHAPTER 2

  High School

  Dear Diary,

  My heart is still aching, but I hide it inside. I will not show my emotions to my mom or Caroline. I want to start being strong for them and show them that I can defeat this depression. Even though it's been almost a year since my dad has left us, they're still hurting inside and they don't need my emotional baggage. Being strong is my main focus.

  I haven't cut myself in over 3 months now. The scars are healed on my body and I plan to keep it that way. The depression still hurts and cutting myself clicks into my mind sometimes, but I fight that urge. I can't keep scaring up my body. I just can't do it anymore.

  I wish I knew what I wanted in life. I wish the answer would just fall out of the sky and reveal itself to me. What do I want to do with my life? Where do I want to be in five or ten years? I thought I had all of the answers, but I truly don't have any at all.

  I know today is a new day. I know I have to start from scratch and build up my confidence and push myself away from this depression, but I will do it because I know I can do it!

  Soon I will get my happiness, I can feel it.

  Love, Nina

  * * * *

  Nervous, that's the emotion I'm feeling right now. I'm entirely fine with admitting it to myself, but no one else. Everyone is always anxious and overwhelmed with starting their first day at school. They're fearful that they might not catch on quickly enough in classes. There is so much distress with teenagers about being in new classes and environments. The only thing that frightens me is everyone finding out about the encounter I had in the hospital, walking into Scarlett Hills High School full of familiar and unfamiliar faces staring at me, and being the center of attention, all eyes on me. I'm the emotionally broken girl who lost her father.

  Caroline has been, to a great extent, terrified to go to high school. She's almost 16 years old and hasn’t been to high school prior to this because she decided to slack off in middle school. She ended up repeating the 8th grade last year. However, now she has to deal with going to a brand-new school with no well-known faces except mine. She has always been the shy type, until she gets comfortable with people. I don't comprehend why she's so nervous at first considering every time she walks into a room all eyes are constantly on her. She's beautiful and won’t admit it to herself. Her insecurities take over her. I will be doubtlessly honest, I have insecurities with myself too, so I really have no room to talk.

  Today my goal is to put a genuine smile on my face. So far, it's not being accomplished. I decide to get a bit dressed up today, since it is my first day being a junior. I pick out a nice pair of dark blue jeans, a white v-neck t-shirt with a dark tan dress up jacket and put on my dark tan boots to match my jacket. I also have a nice long necklace consisting of plastic silver beads. My mom just bought it at a store for me recently and it fits perfectly with this outfit.

  Now, I'm puzzled with what to do with my hair. I think I'll just leave it down and straighten it. I'm trying to impress my classmates. My hair is pretty long. The length of it is more than half way down my back. I haven't had a hair cut in about a year and don't plan on it. My long, smooth, black hair is comforting to me. That's why I don't like cutting it.

  My side bangs are always an irritation for me. Today they aren't achieving what I want them to do. I style them with a hair dryer. I curl them under and put some hair spray in. Then, they're done, but today they just aren’t cooperating.

  My alarm goes off again. I must have forgotten to turn it off. I go over to turn off that loud, obnoxious sound, and then I see a picture of my father. It was taken when I was a little girl. I was, without a doubt, seven years old. He was teaching me how to ride my bike without training wheels. It was that day that I actually rode my bike all by myself. My mom ran outside after she saw me through the window of our house. She came out and snapped a collection of pictures. I remember that day perfectly, like it was yesterday.
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br />   The sky was clear from clouds and the sun was brighter than it is most days. We lived in a charming neighborhood, filled with kids all around. I had a pink princess bike. I saw it at a local Wal-Mart and cried for it, every day until my father capitulated and went back to the store and bought it for me. It was a surprise too. I woke up one morning and BAM! There it was, right in the middle of my bedroom floor. I had never been so delighted and surprised before.

  I remember the way my dad looked standing in the sun. He was tall and skinny. Sunglasses covered his eyes and his smile brightened the day even more. His dark and shaggy brown hair shined in the luminosity of the sun.

  Suddenly, a surge of frustration fills my body. I go back into the bathroom to finish doing my hair. I have the hair dryer in my hand, styling my bangs. They just aren't agreeing with me today. I thought that they were going to, but they have a mind of their own. "Dammit!" I yell and throw my hair dryer onto the counter and the plastic brush with it. I immediately regretted it.

  My sister walks in after she hears me yell. "Who are you talking to, Nina?" she says in an utterly bewildered tone.

  She wasn't supposed to hear that. I knew she would come in and say something. She always has her concerns about me, even though I'm her older sister and I should be the one worrying about her. "I wasn’t talking to anyone."

  "Are you okay, Nina? You look kind of irritated." She insists on being aware with what's wrong with me. I know she won’t stop until I say something. Should I tell her the truth or a lie?

  What is truthfully wrong with me? It's the picture of my dad. He shouldn't have died like he did. Maybe I could have changed what happened. I hold the tears in. I'm compelled to stay strong for my sister, my mom and especially for myself. I would have let the tears go and just started to bawl my eyes out, but I couldn't do that in front of Caroline.

  "My bangs aren't cooperating with me today. It's just getting irritating. That's all." That wasn’t a lie. It's half of the truth. My bangs are infuriating me, but that isn’t the only thing that's wrong with me. I hide the pain I feel with a smile. She smiles back and is on her way downstairs for breakfast.